


medium drip

by civillove



Series: seblaine drabble prompts from tumblr [47]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4273287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘I’m on the verge of tears because of a rude customer and you step in and stand up for me’ AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	medium drip

It’s not the most fulfilling job in the world but it’s reliable in the fact that it pays him every week and he can continue to live in one of the most expensive cities doing something that he loves. Or well, inching towards that goal of doing something he loves. He might be going to NYADA with a few scholarships, but this café job is helping him set up his bank account for important things like excess tuition, school books, extracurriculars, food, and cardigans (because yeah, having a wardrobe of cardigans _is_ important thanks very much). It pays fairly well for what he needs but it doesn’t always have the sweetest New Yorkers wandering in for a chai latte and caffeine fix.

One of the first conversations he has with his manager is that when he starts working there are three things he needed to keep in mind, all while mixing lattes, and cold drips and cleaning machines between use. 1) New Yorkers want their coffee, fast, efficiently and correct, 2) never forget his apron and be on time and finally 3) to let snappy comments roll right off his back. He was alright with one and two; he’d always been a dedicated worker no matter what aspect of his life he was focusing on. This job was important and he treated it like it was, even if it _was_ just mixing lattes and trying not to burn the pads of his fingers thanks to the steam of the machines.

He doesn’t think he’ll have any trouble with number three because he’s never been a confrontational person in the first place. His brother is always reminding him that he needs to stick up for himself, that he can’t just _let_ people walk all over him but Blaine doesn’t exactly see it that way. His friends have always considered him a rock, a shoulder to cry on, someone who listens, doesn’t judge and is always there when they need him. He’s optimistic and somewhat passive, his first reaction to anger or snappy comments isn’t to argue. So when his customers are short with him because he takes ‘too long’ making their latte or when someone isn’t the warmest when he greets them at the cash register he lets it roll off his back like water.

Blaine puts on a bright smile, thanks people in line for waiting, and tells everyone to have a great day.

“Do you always smile like that?”

He looks up as a customer approaches the register, crinkling his nose a little at the smirk lining the other’s lips. “Like…what?”

The café is quiet for a Tuesday afternoon, the morning rush of cranky New Yorkers heading to work done and over with. They won’t get their next surge of business until after four, when said even crankier New Yorkers stop in for a bit of a ‘pick me up’ before heading home.

“Like the sun is in your mouth.” He takes his wallet out of his back pocket.

Blaine hesitates for a moment, like he’s not quite sure whether that’s a compliment or not. “Uh…thank you? And yes, I do. As a matter of fact. New York could do with a little sunshine every now and then you know.” And now he’s rambling. Perfect.

The stranger smirks, glancing up at the menu. “Trust me, I wasn’t complaining.”

His eyes graze over the taller’s features, noticing the freckles peppering his high and defined cheekbones. He’s dressed nicely, in dark greys and blues, the collar of his sweater shielding his neck from the cold. Blaine can smell waves of his cologne wafting towards his nose, mixing deliciously with the coffee that it almost makes his stomach lurch.

“You’re not getting a free coffee just because you’re hinting towards liking my smile.” Blaine teases a little, stepping a bit out of his shell.

The other laughs, eyes sparkling with warmth and amusement. “Oh, wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll settle for a medium drip and your phone number.”

Pink instantly kisses Blaine’s cheeks as he punches in his order into the register and grabs a grande cup. “Maybe next time…” He trails off, holding a sharpie close to the cup waiting for his name.

“Sebastian.”

Blaine nods, writing the name with a smiley face in perfect scrawl. “Sebastian.”

Sebastian pays with his card but doesn’t leave the register when Blaine passes his cup along to the barista to fill it, instead he leans against the counter and quirks a smile at him. “You’re breaking my heart, but I’m sure you’re used to that.”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a gentle laugh. “Guess you’ll just have to come in more often. Let some sunshine and really great coffee mend your shattered heart.”

Sebastian just smiles and that’s exactly what he ends up doing.

Almost every day for the next month, Sebastian walks in to the café and waits to talk to Blaine. No matter how busy it is, no matter how long the line is, no matter if it’s only a short and quick hello or a detailed conversation about NYADA or Sebastian’s ceramic class and how much he can’t stand it. The conversations are sometimes irrelevant but somehow equally important, he finds himself looking forward to them each time he comes to work.

Blaine finds that he can just _talk_ to him, that the conversation is always easy and effortless. It’s ironic to him that the people he’s already gotten to know at school, like his best friend Kurt, are starting to become incomparable to spending short bursts of time with Sebastian. There’s something about him that _pulls_ him in, simply and irrevocably, and doesn’t let go.

“If it snows anymore I’m burrowing myself in my apartment,” Blaine comments thoughtfully as he stacks a few chairs. The café is closing in ten minutes but Sebastian is still at one of the tables, finishing typing up a paper. “Or build an igloo.”

Sebastian hums. “Send me a smoke signal if you’re not coming into work, I won’t bother making the effort in getting here through the blizzard.”

He smiles softly, glancing over at his friend who hasn’t looked up from his paper. Blaine runs a hand through his curls before he sits at his table, knocking his knee into his so Sebastian glances up at him. “You know, there are other people who know how to make you your medium drip here.”

Sebastian smiles sweetly. “Not anyone with an ass like yours.”

“Which has little to do with coffee.”

“But has everything to do with why I show up here.”

Blaine rolls his eyes but the smile is plastered on his face for at least ten minutes. He has yet to give him his number, even when Sebastian walks him to the subway when he’s finished with work and makes sure he gets on it okay before going home himself. Even when _sometimes_ Sebastian buys medium drips and ends up giving them back to Blaine stating something like ‘for you’ before winking and leaving. Even when Blaine can’t stop thinking about him before he comes to work and well after he leaves.

So naturally, when he wants to give Sebastian his number his entire schedule shifts and he doesn’t _see_ him for days. His hours roll around, it’s not based on routine but rather when his manager wants him to come in until they hire a few more people. It wouldn’t be that much of a big deal except he and Sebastian can’t seem to get back on the same track. They either just miss one another or Sebastian stops trying to figure out when Blaine will be there and orders his medium drip from someone else.

It’s a bitter January day and as optimistic as he usually is, the universe is really trying his positive outlook on life today. He’s slipped on some ice on the way to work and was late opening the café thanks to traffic. It manages to throw him completely off balance for the entire day, and nothing goes quite the way he wants it to. He messes up simple things that he usually doesn’t, orders and change and trips over his own feet and knocks over dispensers.

Obviously it’s easy to say that when he has a bad day, it’s _terrible._

Blaine tries to turn it around, to keep that patient smile plastered on his face but his nerves are eating at his optimism. He wants nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed, restart the whole day. And even worse he keeps finding himself thinking about _Sebastian,_ of all things, which doesn’t help his concentration.

The café is filled to the brim with impatient people this morning and they’re short staffed thanks to their barista not being able to dig her car out of the snow—so he’s multitasking as best as he can. Blaine’s already had to remake this coffee order once because he had accidentally added hazelnut syrup instead of caramel and right before he manages to get the cup of coffee to the customer he _drops it._

Blaine jumps back a little as the coffee hits the ground, the cup tumbling right out of his hands. His mouth opens a little, not quite sure what happened except that it had slipped right between his fingers.

“Oh, _great.”_ The customer exclaimed, shaking his head.

For a moment he thought he’d managed to spray him with coffee from the cup that’s now crumpled on the floor, a girl he works with pausing at the register to get a few paper towels, but he hasn’t. The guy’s suit is still immaculate but he looks _angry._

“I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll make you another one—”

“That’s the _third one,_ I don’t have time for you to stumble through another order.”

Blaine swallows, pausing between drying himself with the paper towels and reaching for another cup. “It’ll just take a minute, it’s just been a really hectic day and I—”

“Do I look like I have time to hear your sob story?” He asks, voice impatient as he taps his foot and looks at his watch again. “I’m going to end up being late for work because you can’t put together a simple coffee.”

Blaine usually doesn’t let things like this bother him but something tight pops in his chest, something long overdue and tender and a wave of _hurt_ wracks into his ribs like waves hitting a shore. It’s been a tiring, drawn out day, _nothing_ has gone right. His body hurts and his head is pounding from not enough sleep, the one machine is broken and is slowing down their whole usually well-oiled machine, the pads of his fingers are tinged red from steam and too hot metal, and he _misses_ Sebastian. Of all things, he _misses_ him.

He thinks that if he’d seen him this morning that maybe, just maybe, today wouldn’t be going so terribly backwards.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” He snaps, yanking Blaine out of his train of thought. His fingers tighten against the counter so hard that his knuckles turn white and he grabs another cup with a shaking hand as tears pinprick the back of his eyes. “Oh great, now he’s going to cry.”

“Hey, knock it off.” Sebastian, out of the corner of his eye steps forward towards the counter, not looking at him. Instead his glare is firmly set on the asshole still waiting for his coffee. “Berating him isn’t going to get your coffee done any faster.”

The man doesn’t appreciate Sebastian’s commentary, he adjusts his satchel and fixes him with an icy glare that would probably intimidate most. But Sebastian doesn’t look phased, in fact he looks unimpressed.

“It doesn’t take brain surgery to make a cup of coffee. I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes.”

Sebastian takes a short breath in, and Blaine can tell just by looking at him that he’s treading thin on patience. “Blaine has been nothing but apologetic and polite to you since you walked in. Which says a lot, because personally, if I were him I would have thrown your coffee in your face along with a ‘have a nice day’.” He sticks his hands in his pockets.

Blaine swallows, setting the cup down as his manager gently squeezes his shoulder and tells him to take a ten minute break; just enough time to clean himself up and start fresh. He nods quickly, disappearing out from around the corner and makes a beeline for the bathroom. He lets out a long breath as the door closes behind him only to open a second later with Sebastian on his heels.

He licks his lips but says nothing as he stands at the sink, splashing some cold water on his face before trying to rub some coffee out of his work pants. Blaine glances up at him, a soft smile that he doesn’t feel tugging at his lips when the taller slowly approaches where he’s standing.

“You alright?”

Blaine shuts the sink off and throws away some damp paper towels, leaning his back against it as he turns to look at Sebastian. He nods softly, running a hand through his curls. “You didn’t have to do that. What you said out there.” Not that he didn’t appreciate it, or need it. While Blaine always tries to be there for people…sometimes he doesn’t realize how much he equally needs someone to be there for him.

Sebastian smiles, reaches out to play with a curl near Blaine’s ear before tucking it behind. “I know, I just did it to get your phone number.” He teases, which only makes Blaine laugh.

The shorter reaches for Sebastian’s hand which is still near his face and walks with him out of the bathroom, the impatient customer from before nowhere in sight. He doesn’t come through with his number until he’s back behind the counter, writing it along with Sebastian’s name on a cup for his medium drip.

That free coffee costs him a kiss, but Sebastian doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.


End file.
